Christmas Caper (The Very Organized Thief)
by KittyKTheAuthoress
Summary: Teresa Owens isn't your typical peeping-tom neighbor. She's an author and a blogger, and is currently writing her novel about the family across the street from her. Sadly, she eventually becomes broke due to old debts that aren't supposed to be hers, and stoops to the level of theft. Will a Christmas miracle occur, or will she be subdued by the owner of the house? Merry Christmas!


_The Very Organized Thief_

_By KittyKTheAuthoress_

Teresa Owens tiptoed through the empty house, a beam of light shining and reflecting on the windows as she turned round. She had been staking it out for months, even if at first it was not for this purpose, watching the owners, now owner and his two children, go through their daily lives. Every time something new had happened in the homestead, Teresa would know. Each twist and turn of the Roberts family's hectic days together were a surprise. She would laugh and cry with the family of four as they went through life. Then one day it happened.

The man and the woman got into a big fight. The mother stormed out in a huff, threatening to file for divorce. She was hit by a drunk driver instead. The man became a widower. Teresa remembered watching him walk out to the mailbox, get a letter for his now-dead wife, and breaking down for all to see. His teenage son and his nine-year-old daughter were forced to drag the sobbing man inside the house, kicking and screaming.

Teresa remembered crossing the street from her own house, replacing the letter carefully into the mailbox from where it lay sadly, forgotten on the cobblestone path. Living across the street from such an engaging family was sometimes upsetting, but Teresa didn't mind. She never did. It was like an obsession that she had contracted, when she first moved into the house across from them in March, she had seen the four of them, crossing the street to bring her a homemade casserole. They were like the stereotypical family from one of those god-awful soaps on the telly. Perhaps her longing for a normal life was what had triggered her obsession with them.

Every tragedy that had befallen the small family had had Teresa sobbing along with them, or staying up in the midst of the night to clean her home from inside-out just so she didn't miss the exciting new episode. She had cheered when the son had announced at the dinner table that he was gay, and cried alongside the daughter when the lovable family dog passed. She almost felt as if she was part of the family. Of course, Teresa never felt that she was one of the typical peeping-tom, meddling neighbors. She merely watched, typing away at her novella, their daily adventures filling every chapter. They didn't bother her and she didn't bother them; a British family of four had never been so interesting.

The family became her favorite television show; it felt like a dream. Until one day, when Teresa got a bill in the mail that she had thought that she had left behind her when she graduated from college, high school even. Debt after debt brought her back into reality. Teresa's novel lay forgotten in her computer's files, patiently waiting to be booted back up. It was missing a resolution, either way. The family of three from across the street had not had any thrilling, happy adventures in a long while. Teresa frantically scrambled to repay debts for things she shouldn't have to, house laying in disrepair.

It was then that she found herself stooping to this level. Sneaking across the road after dark, the father, a man named Brendan, out and about, taking his children, James and Kelly, to assorted places for Christmas Eve. It had been about two months since the wife had died, and Brendan was supposedly still in the same gloom he had been in since day one post-incident. It was the perfect crime- literally. Wrapped in a black turtleneck and yoga pants, torch in hand and a list (as result of her OCD) of things to "borrow," Teresa found herself creeping around her neighbor's home. She was a very organized thief, if she deemed herself that term.

The first stop was the living room. The open floor plan brought back memories of her failed attempts at architecture in college. Teresa had only set foot in this house twice, once as a favor when the family was away in June for summer vacation to bring them their mail, and another time when she was invited over for dinner. This was stupid. She was a single, grown woman, with bills to pay and Christmas cocktail parties to throw, and dates to go on, and novellas to finish writing, not a thief. And yet, here she was.

Stepping softly, Teresa's torch trailed through the room. First item on her list was a game console, so Teresa slid the X-Box 360 painstakingly into her voluminous backpack. Secondly was a tablet, thirdly, a mobile phone. Into the backpack they went. On the bookshelf by the christmas tree, a stack of money sat, enticing her. She stood there for a moment, toggling her torch on and off aimlessly, deciding whether or not to take the christmas presents lying there so invitingly.

Shaking her head, Teresa instead just took the bundle of euros and transitioned into the kitchen. A blender found its way into her backpack, along with another stack of bills and a bottle of rare wine. Next was the laundry room. A pair of wire cutters snipped the blue, then the red, then the green wire of the fuse box, rendering all burglar alarms useless, along with the main power. No lights for them. Teresa mused over when the last time she flipped a light switch was, she'd been using a flashlight or candles for so long in her house.

The garage yielded a small bronze key, with a label on it that had neat lettering, proclaiming it the office key. Another small stack of money, rubber-banded together, slid into her pockets. Teresa stepped lightly, on the staircase she knew so well, to the upstairs. In the bathroom, a diamond ring captured her eye, but it wasn't on her list. Plus, it would make the man sadder if she took it. She didn't want that.

James, the teenager's, bedroom gave her a small electric guitar and a stamp album- huh, she never knew the boy collected stamps- to put in her pack. It was so messy that Teresa just _had_ to set down her pack and clean the ten-by-ten space. Kelly, the girl's, room was much cleaner, albeit smaller. Teresa nabbed a digital camera and an overflowing jewelry box. She sadly patted the crestfallen-looking teddy bear on the head when she exited and made her way to the office. The key fit snugly into the lock, well-oiled hinges making it clear that the father spent much of his time in this room recently.

A pair of headphones and a few more stacks of money were "borrowed" from this room, when Teresa decided to open a drawer. Inside was a slip of paper with a four-letter PIN number, 8442, lettered in the same neat handwriting that had been on the key. Teresa knew at once that it was a safe's passcode. Finally, she made her way into the master bedroom. She sneezed quietly in surprise when the grandfather clock downstairs rang midnight, disturbing a thin layer of dust that there had been on the doorhandle. She was glad to have remembered to wear gloves.

Inside what should have been a broom closet lay the safe. Entering the code quickly, Teresa scooped several more wads of cash into her pack, discovering a sizable bar of gold underneath. She didn't dare touch it, but a glance at her watch revealed that it was 12:33, about time for the man of the house to return. Teresa's breath caught in her chest, her heart threatening to explode from her chest as she set it down carefully into her backpack. That must've triggered something, because the minute she did, the telltale noise of a car pulling up made her jump.

Teresa rushed into the wardrobe, sliding the door closed. She sat there, listening to the tortuously soft footsteps as the man of the house unlocked the door, then stepped inside. After flipping a few light switches, he must have realized that the power was out. She heard him give a start when the clock struck one, then heard him walk slowly up the stairs. Teresa's breathing became louder and ragged when he walked right past the door to the master bedroom and made his way into the study. She clutched the key to her chest, sliding it under the door of the closet.

The door to the bedroom opened suddenly, and Teresa could already picture the next scene. The man throwing open the wardrobe's doors, herself falling gracelessly to the carpeted floor, him subduing her with a smack over the head, calling the police... Oh god, she could already see the next morning's headline: "Christmas Caper." Extra, extra, read all about it! Woman arrested for theft to repay her drunken stepfather's debts! Get all the thrilling details in exclusive interview edition!

Instead the wardrobe door was softly opened, the brunette man's face betraying nothing, letting Teresa's still form fall gently into his arms in an embrace. Brendan muttered a "Merry Christmas" and patted her back. She was shocked.

"What... How did you- Why are you...?"

"My dear neighbor, I knew all along that you were planning to come and "borrow" some things from me."

She shifted in his arms. "W- will you call the police on me?"

"No. Come, I bought a Christmas pudding. I can never finish them by myself."

His green sweater was all Teresa saw as she was scooped up and carried down the stairs, bridal style. She nuzzled her face into his chest awkwardly, waiting to wake up from this strange dream.

"I trust that your "collection" is enough to pay off your debt?" He asked, handing her a plate with half of a Christmas pudding on it.

Teresa nodded bleakly.

"Excellent! I was worried that there wouldn't be enough. My bank would be so very annoyed if I tried to transfer all that money into your account anonymously."

A forkful of pudding was halfway to her mouth when Brendan added something more.

"Will you spend Christmas morning with me? The children won't return until the day after tomorrow."

She choked and spluttered.

"I..."

"Your debts have not gone unnoticed by our family. I had to stop Kelly from smashing her piggy bank at least twice and running over in the midst of the afternoon to give you a handful of crumpled one-euro notes. James and his boyfriend were even thinking of hosting a charity concert for you." The brunette brushed an invisible speck of dust off of his trousers.

"Let me get this straight," Teresa swallowed, "You let me burgle your house so I that could repay my stepfather's debts?"

"Well, it might've been for a selfish reason as well- I really missed your snarky movie reviews on your blog and I wanted to see how your novel would end- but other than that, yes, it was completely autonomous."

Teresa's interwoven fingers clenched. "You read my blog?"

"Of course! It is only natural."

"...We're just neighbors."

"I think of you as a good friend, my dear Miss Owens."

It was then that she broke down, curling up into a ball at the kitchen island, sobbing into her arms as her chest heaved. How could Brendan be so kind? How could _anyone_ be that kind?! The clock struck two, and Teresa felt a hand clasp her shoulder. Her long black braid flopped almost comically over her shoulder.

"You may stay in Kelly's room for the night. I'm sure she won't mind."

The "thief" found herself drifting away, curled up underneath the covers of Kelly's bed as Brendan tucked her in.

"I think you were a very organized thief. A professional, if need be." His voice trailed off as she slipped away.

That morning, Teresa woke up at her usual time, feeling disconcerted. Why were the lights on? Then she remembered. This wasn't her room, this was the neighbor's daughter's- whom she burgled last night. Memories came flooding back when she noticed a laptop blinking tantalizingly at her from the end table. _Her_ laptop.

Teresa scrambled to reach it, opening the word processor in a matter of seconds and beginning to type. Words came so easily, weaving a tapestry of the family in her story was burgled on Christmas Eve, the novel's father falling in love with the burglar. At one point, Brendan set down a mug of hot cocoa on the table beside Teresa. Time passed in her story and in real life, and the very organized thief found her life mirroring her novel. Both the self-insert character and the real Teresa repaid their debts. They also found themselves marrying the man they burgled and becoming a mother to his two children.

Teresa Owens, now Teresa Roberts, published her novel. It became a best-seller on the slice-of-life circuit. Her stepfather even got into rehab, a fact that made her cry with joy when she received the letter. James proposed to his boyfriend after graduating college, while Kelly never married but instead opened an orphanage where all children that arrived there were considered loved. Meanwhile, Brendan stood by her side through it all, holding her hand through good times and bad. Teresa ended up giving the house from across the street to Kelly and her motley crew.

If she was in a fairy tale, this would be the part where she lived happily ever after. Of course, it wasn't, and that was okay. Teresa would always have Brendan to fall back on either way, and boy, was she glad to have him. Life wasn't a fairy tale, true. Neither was love. But with the correct recipe of love and patience, she managed to make it exactly that.

_The End_


End file.
